Matthew's Choice - Patricia Bradley Mills & Boon Heartwarming

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still had her hand extended, and he stuck his out. Immediately it was swallowed in her dark one.

      “Are you hungry?” She widened her eyes like adults did sometimes when they talked to kids. “Could you eat some scrambled eggs and biscuits?”

      His mouth watered, but he shook his head, remembering the last time he’d been put in a shelter in another state. That lady was all nice as long as somebody was around, too. Probably as soon as the cop left, this one would do the same thing—get mad ’cause she had to clean up his mess.

      She ruffled his hair, and her knees popped as she stood. “Well, maybe you don’t want anything, but I bet Jason here does. Right, Jason?”

      “Some of your biscuits, Miss Sarah? Yes, ma’am.” The cop took off his hat and laid it on the table. “Noah, you sit there in the middle, and I’ll just take the end chair.”

      Noah did as he was told. The kitchen was warm, and his eyelids drooped. If he weren’t so hungry...

      Something smelled so good...he woke with a start. Jason and Miss Sarah were laughing, but not in a mean way.

      “Didn’t know whether to let you sleep or wake you up.” Miss Sarah scooted him closer to the table, then slathered butter on a biscuit and put it on his plate beside a mound of scrambled eggs.

      “I thought he was going to fall out of the seat,” Jason said. He leaned back in his chair. “Thank you, Miss Sarah. That was really good.”

      The food tempted Noah. The last he’d eaten was the couple of slices of ham he’d found at the Dumpster, and before that, it’d been a bowl of ramen noodles. That’d been lunch, yesterday. Don’t be taking any handouts. We don’t ask anybody for anything. Butter oozed from the middle of the bread. Maybe just one bite...

      The cop stood and picked up his cap.

      “You gonna tell him about your phone call?” she asked.

      “Oh, yeah.” He smiled down at Noah. “I called the hospital, and they told me your mom was doing better.”

      Noah swallowed the lump that threatened to choke him. “Is she awake?”

      Jason hesitated. “Not yet.”

      “Then she’s not all right. I gotta be there when she wakes up.” His voice cracked, and he fought the tears that threatened to spill.

      “What you need to do, son—” Miss Sarah cupped his face in her huge brown hands “—is to eat so you can keep your strength up. You won’t be able to help your momma if you get sick. Okay?”

      He stared into her chocolate-brown eyes.

      “Trust me, Noah. I won’t steer you wrong, and I won’t ever lie to you.”

      Something inside him said she was telling the truth. At last, he nodded.

      “Good. Now eat your food, and then we’ll get you into bed.”

      He attacked the eggs, keeping his eye on Sarah and Jason as they walked to the back door. She punched in something on the box before Jason left, but he couldn’t see exactly what she did. He’d have to watch if he wanted to get out of here. He figured there were bars on the windows like the last place. The door was probably the only way out.

       CHAPTER THREE

      “SO YOU’RE GUARANTEEING me you can pull this off for this price?” The silver-haired building magnate drew a line under the dollar figure Matt had quoted for the Valentine’s Day banquet. “That’s all-inclusive?”

      “Yes, sir, Mr. Bradford,” Matt said. “Except for the entertainment, and I can provide you with a list of bands and ensembles I’ve worked with in the past. I can even contact them for you, unless you want to bring in a comedian from Las Vegas. Then you’re on your own.”

      J. Phillip Bradford rested his forearms on the table in the small conference room where Matt and the CEO were meeting. Bradford’s silver eyebrows arched in perpetual skepticism. He didn’t respond to Matt’s attempt at humor.

      Matt swallowed the impulse to add another sales pitch. He’d laid it all out and there was no reason to go over it again. The older man’s steel-gray eyes bored into Matt’s, and he forced himself not to move. Keeping his mouth shut was harder.

      Finally, Bradford nodded. “Thank you for coming in. Of the five hotels who have submitted a proposal, you’re the only representative who agreed to meet with me today.”

      Surely that counted for something. Matt pushed to his feet as the older man stood, his hand extended. Even at seventy, J. Phillip Bradford was as tall as Matt’s six-one, his posture ramrod-straight, his grip firm as he still seemed to take Matt’s measure.

      “This gala is very important to me. At last year’s affair, we raised enough money to fund an orphanage for a year. With the ambience you, or one of your competitors, provide, I expect to do even better this year. Thank you for coming by, Matthew.”

      Outside the conference room, Matt allowed his shoulders to relax as he mentally ticked the meeting off his to-do list for the day and hurried to the elevator. When he stepped off on the ground floor, he dialed Jessica. Today was the day. Pick her up in twenty minutes, take her to his apartment and make his special breakfast, then pop the question.

      “Good morning, love.” Sleepiness edged her soft voice.

      She wasn’t up, much less dressed. Disappointment stole a little of his excitement. “The meeting is over, and I’m on my way to pick you up.”

      “Now? What time is it?”

      “Yes, now, and it’s eleven-thirty. I have a special day planned.”

      “And I’m almost ready,” she said with a low chuckle. “Fooled you, didn’t I? But, since I’m not quite dressed yet, why don’t I drive myself to your apartment?”

      Punctuality wasn’t Jessica’s strong suit so he was a little surprised. “See me in the next thirty minutes?”

      “Forty-five. I’ll call you before I leave.”

      Back at his apartment, he set the dining room table then picked up a magazine he’d left flopped open on the bar. He looked around for a place to stash it.

      Allie materialized in his mind, how she’d hesitated when he asked her thoughts about the apartment. She hadn’t liked what she’d seen. It’d been written all over her face. Not that she would ever like anything about his new lifestyle.

      Allie had looked good, and he wondered what made her lose all that weight? Not that she’d ever looked bad, or at least he hadn’t thought so. She’d been the one bothered by her Rubenesque figure.

      Was it because of Peter? Surely, not that smug egotist. What was it Peter said he did? Director of social services. Perfect. A bureaucratic job suited him to a T. He just couldn’t see Allie and Peter together.

      Matt glanced down at the magazine still in his hand. Maybe next week he and Jessica could pick out a new end table with a drawer. And maybe a couple of landscapes for the walls to go with the abstract painting. Scratch that thought. He’d mentioned that before. No, no, Matthew, space and light will flow, creating the perfect decor for this room. Besides, this room is you.

      His cell vibrated in his pocket, and he fished it out. Jessica. “Yes?”

      “Just so you’ll know, I’m walking out the door. And did you remember to pick up the caramel coffee at Starbucks?”

      His heart sank. Would Starbucks be open on New Year’s Day? It had to be. If not, maybe there was a number on the door for emergencies. “It will be waiting for you.”

      “Good. See you soon.”

      Matt had fifteen minutes to drive to Starbucks and get back.

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